


Typical Friday

by Missy



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Personality Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-30
Updated: 2010-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Personality!Swap fic; Michael is Fi, Fi is Michael and Sam...is a goth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Typical Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Comment_Fic prompt request for Daria, who wanted an AU swap fic where Michael behaves like Fi and Fi behaves like Mike "with bonus points for a goth Sam".

Fiona adjusted her sunglasses as she glanced out the window of the Charger. Michael - his suit somehow still impeccable even as he crawled across the junkyard floor to install each explosive device - was nearly finished with his task. She checked her watch - if he kept on-point like this they just might make it out of there before the drug runners made it back for the trade-off.

That was when Fiona noticed what sort of explosives her quasi-boyfriend had strapped to each car.

"C4 AND dynamite, Michael?"

His eyes sparkled as he ducked back into the car. "Why not? You asked for a big boom and I'm giving you a big boom." He smirked, skirting his fingers across the bare skin just above the decolletage of her bright red dress. "If we make it out of here, I'll give you an even bigger boom later."

Fiona stifled a groan - fortunately, for at that moment her radio crackled to life. "Guys, I think we're in trouble," Sam whined.

She sighed. "What is it, Sam?"

"It's four. Smithson said he'd be here by three, and I've got a feeling he's not gonna show."

Michael shrugged. "It's probably the traffic."

"Can I go to meet you? I'm burning to death out here."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Just chill for awhile. You could a tan, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he returned coldly. "And I hate the sun. Don't you know what too much of it can do to your complexion?"

Fiona cut off Michael in mid-reply. "You're a saint, Sam. I owe you big time for this one."

"Yeah, just as long as you don't give me a six-pack like last time," he shuddered. "I hate that stuff. Tastes like lighter fluid."

The radio fuzzed to silence just as a soft popping noise sounded somewhere behind them. Fiona snuck a casual look at the rear-view mirror; it was Smithson's Cadillac, loaded to the teeth with additional ammo.

"Now," she said, as coolly as she could.

Michael like out a cackle of delight as he set off each explosive, causing not only a huge boom but confusing Smithson's men, allowing them to get some distance on their foes before the chase proper began.

Fiona took in the chaos around her. Michael was leaning halfway out of the passenger side window, shooting twin glocks at their pursuers. Up the road stood Sam, his ivory skin turned to chalk, clutching his Milk Chug in meaty fists, his Cure teeshirt soaked in sweat.

Fiona shrugged as she readjusted her sunglasses and punched the gas. So far, it was a typical Friday.


End file.
